


Baseball

by CantSpeakFae



Series: The Scars Souvenir [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Abusive/Neglectful Parents, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 01:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: Xander might be stupid, but he knows, at least, that this is the sort of thing that heroes do. Put themselves in the way of danger to protect other people.





	Baseball

Xander's team lost the game.  
  
And the only thing that hurts worse than that is the smack to the back of the head he’s given when he’s ushered into the car, he thinks. The disappointment and rage that’s brewing in Tony Harris, palpable in the air, stings worse than Xander’s eyes when he pulls the baseball cap off of his head and throws it onto the seat beside him as he straps in and stares down at the ground, counting old french fries and crushed beer cans in silence.   
  
“Tony!” Jessica berated her husband after he’d smacked Xander, climbing into the car herself. Xander’s gaze lifts, expecting to see some kind of fury in her - see the Mommy that used to try and defend him - but she just looks nervous. “What if someone had seen you do that?”   
  
“Anyone who watched the game we just fucking did wouldn’t blame me. Hell, I bet the coach would lend me a bat. Waste of space, no fucking talent, just stood there like an idiot and cried when he couldn’t hit the ball. Why is your kid so fucking stupid, Jessica, huh?”   
  
“Don’t fucking blame me. I’ve met your brother and it isn’t hard to see which side of the family he gets it from.”   
  
They’ve peeled out of the parking lot, nearly running over a family from the opposing team who had to jump out of the way and screamed after them, but Tony still found time to lift one of his hands off of the steering wheel and wind back like he was about to hit Jessica, prompting Xander to kick the back of his Dad’s seat as hard as he could and scream -  
  
“I NEVER EVEN WANTED TO PLAY BASEBALL.”   
  
Sufficient distraction. Tony grabbed onto the steering wheel with both hands and nearly slammed on the breaks, malice turning his eyes black when he looked into the rearview mirror to glare at Xander. There are rules, in the house. **Rule number one: You can’t be heard if you don’t yell.** **Rule number two: Xander is never supposed to be heard.** Breaking the latter means that Dad’s gonna pull out his belt when they get home, but it also means that Mom isn’t going to have to hide another bruise before work and Xander might be stupid, but he knows, at least, that this is the sort of thing that heroes do. Put themselves in the way of danger to protect other people. Just like Spiderman.   
  
The rest of the car ride was silent and tense. No music. No conversation. Dad wasn’t even muttering under his breath as he’d sometimes do when he was mad but couldn’t say what was on his mind because they had company or too many nosy neighbors, or something. Xander ducked his head and went back to trying to count the garbage on the floor. He doesn’t know any numbers past thirty, so he has to restart a few times.   
  
And he’s tense as soon as the car comes to a stop. Tony gets out first, stomping like a soldier, and Xander digs his fingers into the seat of the car, but there’s nothing that’ll stop Dad from ripping him out of his seat and dragging him to the house by squeezing him in a headlock, forcing him to walk bent over and unable to see anything but the ground. Small favours, because he can at least see the stairs and try not to trip over them.   
  
Dad throws him into the house. He crashes against the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table, and rolls from his stomach to his back, hissing and spitting like a mad cat and already crying.   
  
“You useless piece of shit! Feeling like a big man now, are you? You wanna say that again?”   
  
Xander pushed himself to sit upright on the floor, his expression furious even under the tears. He hates it here. He hates his dad, his hates his mom, he hates the baseball team. He hates the coach who yelled at him in front of all the other kids and said it was  _his_ fault that they lost, just cause Xander couldn’t hit one ball. He’s so mad and so small that there’s no place to put all of it, so he shouts back.   
  
“You’re the one who made me join! I never wanted to play! And I didn’t ask you to come to watch! I hate sports and I hate you!”   
  
Tony, who had been fumbling to take off his belt, stops cold then.   
  
“What did you just say?”   
  
“I said, I HATE you!”   
  
Tony knelt down, then, grabbing Xander by the collar of his shirt, and yanking him close enough for Tony’s putrid breath to make his eyes water.   
  
“You think you know the meaning of that word, boy? Huh? Do you think you know what it means to hate? You ruined my fucking life, you little shit. Took my whole future! And I still put a roof over your head and food in your mouth, you ungrateful little fuck. You’re nothing and a nobody. You’ll never be anything but a stupid, worthless little bastard and the day you make me happy is the day you’re in a pine box. That’s what hate feels like, /son/. You wanna look at me and say you feel the same?”   
  
Xander just sat there, petrified. Too stunned to move. Too stunned to breathe. Too stunned to even cry.   
  
“That’s what I thought. The day you start feeling hate is the day we finally have something fucking in common. Til then, get the fuck out of my sight.”   
  
And then he stood, lumbering away from Xander to sit on the couch and shouting for a beer. Jessica stepped over Xander to bring him one. Said nothing to her son. Didn’t even look at him, though Xander was sure she heard everything.   
  
He didn’t get hit with a belt, that night, but somehow he still felt...hurt. Deep inside, like he’d been lashed on his stomach or his heart. And it took him a few minutes before he quietly got up and slunk up the stairs to his bedroom.   
  
He didn’t cry when he got there, either, just sat on his bed and stared dispassionately at the wall, wondering if everyone felt like this… and figuring they must all go through it, for no one to ever say anything different.   
  
_And maybe he is stupid, but the one thing he knows, now, is that he never wants to have something in common with his dad._


End file.
